


Incubus

by Freckled_Chickenugget



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, And he's a crybaby, Angst, Demonic Possession, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Jean's a big attractive dipshit, Kinda trigger warning??, LOTS OF TEARS BECAUSE JEAN CRIES LIKE A LOT, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Smut, maybe a lil Mikasa/eren too, mentions of self harm, slight Springles, slight eremin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2040111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckled_Chickenugget/pseuds/Freckled_Chickenugget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bodt has accidentally fallen in love with Jean Kirschtien, the man of his dreams, or so he thinks. Jean may be possessed by a demon that makes him viciously kill people every so often, but Marco loves him just the same. Marco accepts the challenge of taking care of his boyfriend, but the two of them find out Jean's condition of 'demonic period' is a little bit more than just that. And as Jean's care giver, Marco takes it into his own hands to find out what exactly it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incubus

**Author's Note:**

> Shit I've been writing too much
> 
> Found this sitting around on my drive, thought it would be worth to pick up again. 
> 
> I've been laughing at 'demonic period' for way too long

 

 

 

The rain was something Jean had always hated. The way it soaked his clothes, the way it clung to his hair and made him shiver for hours on end. But right now he was rather fortunate for the rain, as it was the one thing that covered the clear trail of blood that he left on the way to his lovers house. The blood smeared on his chest that definitely wasn’t his own almost made him buckle over and throw up a few times, but Jean knew he would pass out right after, so he swallowed it down. He needed to get to safety, he couldn’t let his regret and guilt get the better of him until he was safe.

Jean Kirstein was a murderer, an accidental murderer. Again.

It was so dark out he was glad he knew the way to Marco’s home by heart. Stumbling through the grass and brush, especially with dark images filling his head, it was hard to focus on what way he was going, but it was almost programmed in his mind to go there. To the safety, to the warmth, where Marco would reassure him and snuggle him and rub his back when he decided it was okay to puke. The thunder sounded like god himself screaming at Jean, and Jean just wanted to yell up to the sky that he was sorry. This was his curse, this was Jean’s punishment for an unknown crime.

The rain was confusing his vision, making the world around Jean spin more, and make the partial blonde stumble. Jean knew the guilt would settle in later and the depression would follow, but right now, Jean was focusing on running. He kept imagining police sirens, they weren’t really there, but his crazed mind was in full blown panic mode and it made him try and go faster. The images of blood and the sound of the man's screams kept Jean going too, running from the body he had terribly mutilated, running from the fear that took place back there. Sprinting to the only safe place he knew, Marco’s warm, little cottage-like home in the woods, where the blankets were, where reassurance was,where the warmth was, where his sweet, sweet Marco was.

Going up the steps to Marco’s porch was relieving, but now, he wasn’t even sure if his boyfriend was home. Jean couldn’t even stand, his legs were too tired and his mind shaken, his vision blurring as tears took over. Instead of knocking, he just slammed his body against the door as he slid down to his knees, unable to hold himself any longer. Jean could taste blood in his mouth, blood that wasn’t his, blood that belonged to some man who probably had a wife and kids. A family who would mourn him. Jean had that blood on his lips, the blood that someone would be crying over. Once the door opened, Jean almost flopped inside, struggling to keep in somewhat of an-upright position.

His amber, slitted eyes met with much warmer, brown ones. The eyes he normally fell asleep too at night, the eyes that reminded Jean of a warm, comforting fire. Only Marco could have those eyes. Marco’s expression, at first curious, turned into a twisted shocked, but yet oh-so-terribly mournful, it made Jean’s breath hitch. Marco was clearly about to head to bed, he had that sleepy, disheveled look he got when he relaxed completely. Marco was a pretty busy guy, so his ‘I’m awake and paying attention!’ and ‘I just wanna watch tv and wear sweatpants.’  facial expressions were extremely different. His hair was slightly messy, just enough for Marco to look sleepy, and he wore those stupid fuzzy pants with pictures of corgis on them. Marco’s eyes fluttered over all the blood that had stained Jean’s lips, hands and shirt, and even though the rain had washed away some of it, a lot was still there, and Marco noticed it clearly through the darkness.

“I-It happened again...” Jean croaked, his voice shallow and broken. It felt odd to hear himself speak, he felt like he hadn’t talked in years. And Jean was disgusted by it. He had the voice of a killer.

“Oh god, not again...” Marco whispered in a quick puff of air, falling to his knees and pulling Jean close as if it were a reflex. The warmth and cinnamon-scent of Marco’s home started to waft outside, but it didn’t feel nearly as good as Marco’s body pressed against Jean’s. But instead of relaxing into Marco’s warmth like he normally did, Jean felt disgusted with himself once more. How could such a sweet man love a monster like himself?

The thought that one day Jean could kill the man who trusted him so much, who loved him so much, brought a strangled sob out of Jean’s lips. Followed by another, and another, until Jean was full out sobbing. Marco let out a quiet sigh, rubbing Jean’s soaked back, trying to soothe Jean to the best of his ability. But it only made things worse, god damnit, Jean couldn’t trust himself. That man could have been Marco, any day now, Jean could snap again and it could be Marco who was receiving the uncontrollable wrath of Jean Kirstein. A killer, a murderer, a monster. But Jean, no matter how much he wanted to run away, make sure Marco was safe, he couldn’t do anything but cling to his lover, shaking and sobbing like a small child.

Marco just let him for a few moments, trying to soothe his hysterical boyfriend before inviting him inside to clean up and rest. Rubbing his back, whispering sweet nothings into the partial blonde’s ear that he probably couldn’t even hear because of his sobbing, but Marco tried. He always had, he vowed to take care of Jean no matter what after the first attack, and that promise would never be broken. Marco would take care of his sweetheart, because he knew without him, Jean may be lost in the endless darkness he was cursed to be linked too.

After a while, though, Marco decided that Jean’s shaking wasn’t just because he was overwhelmed, but because he was freezing. Marco couldn’t have his Jean sick, too. Jean’s health was extremely important, especially with his depression, sick Jean was no fun to have around. He was whiny, extra-extra whiny.

“C’mon, lets get you cleaned up, hm?” Marco murmured, somewhat loudly so Jean could hear him. Jean immediatly bit down on his lip, trying to muffle the sobs that were now coming out as long whines.

“Y-yeah, w-water, that, that sounds good...” Jean nodded into Marco’s tear-soaked shoulder, and Marco chuckled falsely, patting his boyfriend’s back.

“Can you stand on your own?”

“N-no.. I d-don’t know...” Jean shook his head, but still never separated from Marco. He was pathetic, he couldn’t even pry himself off of his boyfriend he was so scared. He just wanted to magically be warm, clean, and safe in Marco’s arms. Really, truly safe. No more curses, no more attacks, no more kills, and no more worrying about Marco’s safety. Marco let out a heavy sigh, and his arms which were once around his chest and back went underneath Jean’s bottom, and Marco hoisted the other male up into his arms. Marco’s legs shook as he stood, and Jean let out a shaky grasp in fear that he’d make Marco fall with his weight, but Marco soon regained his balance. “I-I’m sorry..”

“Not your fault.. I’m just not strong, Jean,” Marco chuckled quietly, even though he really didn’t feel happy at all. Whenever Jean was like this, Marco felt a distinct knot in his stomach. One of fear, and worry, but yet curiosity on what Jean had really, truly done. Marco had never seen Jean during his attacks, he had seen him once when the effects of the curse were beginning to wear off, and Jean was stumbling and trying to act human, his normally bright, amber eyes non-existent and instead a pure milky white. It was horrifying, but Marco dealt through it, for Jean.

Marco carried Jean, stopping a few times to regain his breath, straight to the bathroom. Jean glanced around the familiar room, he basically lived at Marco’s house, even though he still had his own crappy apartment he took shelter in sometimes, especially when he thought he was nearing an attack, he needed to stay as far away from Marco as possible when they happened. Marco’s house’s location was bothersome but yet nice, the house nestled in the woods was a rather good hiding place from all the fear Jean had left in the city. They both knew Jean needed some cleaning up. Shaking, soaked, and covered and blood, Jean wasn’t at all comfortable, even pressed tightly against his boyfriend. Marco’s presence was comforting, but Jean could start to feel his dripping body make Marco’s damp too, and it didn't feel too good. Marco almost dropped Jean once, Marco was plenty strong, but Jean was just a little lighter than he was.

With a heavy huff, Marco set Jean down on the toilet seat, instructing his lover to relax and that he’d do the rest. Jean didn’t listen, though, he felt awful and useless, so he stripped while Marco made sure the water was hot, but not too hot. Marco soaked a washcloth under it, and started working on the blood smeared on the lower half of Jean’s face. “How’d this happen? Even on your face... I mean...”

Jean’s stomach lurched. Before it was just turning in discomfort and sickness, but a sudden flash of a memory hit the partial blonde hard. The bloodied taste in his mouth multiplied to a much stronger feeling, Jean knew for sure what he had done. He had never fully remembered his attacks, and this memory especially was blurry and dusted, but, Jean knew what it was, with absolute certainty. It was a sick, horrible feeling, recalling that memory. “Jesus christ, I ate his hand.” Jean whispered, his lips hardly forming the words.

Marco’s jaw dropped. Jean took advantage of his boyfriends shock, pushing Marco to the side and nearly leaping off the toilet, opening it before shoving his finger as far as it would go down his own throat. “Jean, no!” Marco yelled as he heard Jean’s painful gag, followed by an awful retching sound as Jean gave up the contents of his stomach. It was a pale red, Jean knew that was blood, but not his own. Fuck, he was throwing up another man’s blood for godsakes...! Marco was overwhelmed by the smell alone, but set a reassuring hand on Jean’s back as Jean desperately tried to rid his stomach of everything inside. Jean’s throat burned like hell, the motion of the gagging alone being painful, along with the putrid reddish brown liquid that came out of Jean’s throat like a fire. Jean could feel the color drain from his face, his whole body start to shake, and the room became ten times colder than it had been before. Marco’s presence was more embarrassing now if anything. Jean felt pathetic, and smaller than he normally did, maybe he should have went to his own house...

Marco pulled Jean away from the toilet before he could try and do it again, which was rather easy considering the fact that Jean was even more weak now. Jean let out a quick whine in protest when Marco whipped his face off with the same washcloth he had been using previously, he wanted badly to throw up again, to shove his hand down his throat as far as it could go to try and get that wretched thing out of his stomach. “Marco, please, I-I need to do it again...”

“You’re okay, Jean,” Marco murmured, pressing his lips against Jean’s cold forehead. Jean panted and shook, trying to weakly get up from Marco’s grasp. Jean probably could have gotten away if he didn’t feel like shit, but sadly that wasn't the situation. “Shh, honey, your okay...”

Marco was really trying his best, but Jean’s safety came before his comfort, and couldn’t risk letting Jean do that again, considering how weak it made the male after one go. Marco just pressed soft kisses to his boyfriend’s hair, trying to calm him down so he could continue getting him ready for bed. “I’m not okay, Marco,” Jean mumbled, pressing his face into Marco’s chest, giving into the other male’s words. He felt so pathetic, but what would he do without Marco? Jean basically lived with him, he got Jean out of a seemingly unending depression, Marco took care of Jean better than his parents ever had or ever will, Marco gave him a place where he could go when he needed help or just a little fucking love. Marco’s words and actions have always been comforting, but Jean always felt bad, weak, especially in his depression that usually lasted a month after his attacks. A cold, icy feeling settled into his chest once again. “I’m never going to be okay.”

“You’ll get better,” Marco said with a quiet sigh, running a hand through Jean’s wet hair, “Remember how bad you were when you lived alone? You’ll get better, you’ve been getting better,” Marco muttered, patting Jean’s back roughly, before reaching over to flush the toilet and close the seat. He coaxed Jean back onto it, now beginning to work off his boyfriend’s pants, that was still clinging to his legs from the wetness of the rain. Jean begrudgingly cooperated, his want to rest dominating his want to throw up.

Eventually Marco had stripped Jean down to just his boxers, which were surprisingly the only thing dry (Marco wouldn’t have minded taking them off, though, they were both beyond comfortable with each others naked bodies and extremely far from virgin.), Marco proceeding to dry Jean’s chest and shoulders with a new, clean towel, before covering his right shoulder with a generous amount of sympathetic kisses. Jean was truthfully freezing and just wanted to get to bed, but Marco was insistent on preventing a cold or any other sickness, drying the longer part of Jean’s undercut.

“..You wanna get to bed, now?” Marco asked once finished, and Jean nodded slightly in response. “I’ll go grab some more blankets, you’re always really cold after your attacks.. Sound okay?” Jean couldn’t do anything else but nod, and he knew Marco was also going to lock the bathroom door to prevent Jean from trying to throw up again in the middle of the night, but Jean doubted he couldn’t get out of bed once he was in it anyways. Marco led him to the bed, Jean leaning on his boyfriend the whole way, unable to really support himself on his own. He basically collapsed on the bed once reaching it, exhausted from the night, but shook underneath the blankets.

“I’ll be right back,” Marco said, leaving the room briefly. And once Marco came back and put the blankets on the bed, he neatly crawled under next to Jean, tucking the partial blonde in before kissing his forehead lovingly and pulling him close. He had new pants on, Jean had gotten the corgi ones wet, but the new pajamas were made from the same stuff. Even though Jean was tired, he would never, even reject cuddles, no matter how shitty he felt. Marco was his furnace, his safe haven, the only one that could possibly keep the nightmares and the depression away. The way Marco held him in his arms made Jean feel loved and safe, though still shaking a little, Jean was finally warming up. Marco’s arms wrapped tightly around Jean, his chin pressed to his forehead, Jean felt his panicked body relax a little more. Than more, and more, until Marco’s now steady breathing was finishing Jean off on the journey to sleep. Before Jean lost consciousness, though, he moved further down, pressing his head against Marco’s chest, the sound of the other man’s steady heart humming in Jean’s ear.

But deep inside, Jean was petrified. Because any day now, that heart would stop beating. And it would be all Jean’s fault.

_**/**/** _

A soft hum brought Jean back to his senses. It was distant at first, but soon formed into that sweet, but slightly husky sound of Marco’s signature morning voice, followed by the wafting smell of chocolate and pancakes.

“Jean? Wake up, sleepy head...” Jean felt a hand press on his arm as well as a dip in the bed, followed by a soft kiss on his temple. “C’mon... I made your favorite, chocolate chip pancakes...”  Marco’s voice sounded pretty husky like it did every morning, his normally soft voice turning into something deeper, but it still sounded gentle. Marco also used this voice during sex, so the voice always hit Jean hard, horny or not.

Jean didn’t know where his attacks came from. There was a reason, no doubt, but if he had known, he would’ve stopped them a long, long time ago. Sometimes Marco would try and get an answer out of Jean, but, Jean had nothing to tell him. He figured it had something to do with his parents, Jean really didn’t know anything about his family besides the faint memories he had with them as a child, but, they all seemed foggy. Foggy like the memories of the attacks. The attacks started around age fifteen, when Jean was in the orphanage because his parents went god knows where, but, Jean’s first attack was on another child in the orphanage. Of course, Jean panicked after, and ran away. Soon, he got a somewhat steady job, started school again, and eventually got a shitty apartment and a dog. The dog didn’t go well, because in a matter of six months Jean had killed it. The depression commenced, and Jean prefered to ignore those two and a half years of his life. That’s when the ‘darkness’ got him. Attacks happened more, he had no one to turn to, memories were less foggy and he was constantly panicked that the police would find him. Jean’s luck was tested on a warm, early fall day, when he decided to take the first walk that he had had in five months, and met a handsome, nineteen-year-old at the park named Marco Bodt. His name alone was intriguing, and somehow, Jean had handled going out with him. And the ‘darkness’ ended, and Jean was almost at peace.

Marco found out about the attacks in a month or so, after Jean had killed Marco’s pet Shiba Inu, and things got shaky. Jean as an awkward apology present bought Marco a new Shiba Inu, and all was forgiven. Sort of. Marco was still upset over the loss of his dog, and really nervous and worried for Jean’s condition, but Marco still loved Jean, and Jean still loved Marco. That was all that mattered.

They named the new dog Commander, only because Marco’s old shiba inu’s name was Sergeant. But, Jean didn’t kill this one, because now that the depression was gone he could somewhat tell when his attacks were going to happen. A feeling of dread would settle in him, and Jean would run as far away from civilization as he could, and his attack would happen within a week or so. That’s the only way Jean could protect everything he cared about. But sometimes, every so often, they would come without a warning.

Jean was still far from normal, despite his depression being gone. He got cold flashes, moments when he was suddenly freezing. He got sick a lot more than others, and Jean was a baby with anything worse than a cold. As well as the additional nightmares and certain triggers that came with his ptsd, He just felt shitty a lot. Jean still looked similar to a normal human though, all except his slitted pupils, which most dismissed as genes or contacts. But, that didn’t mean he wasn’t happy, Marco could make him forget all about that stuff. But after Jean’s attacks, the depression would return for a good week, he would become more sensitive to his triggers, these were the days he needed his freckled lover the most.

Jean moaned quietly as Marco kissed him again, but the smell of pancakes traveling into his brain was enough for him to begrudgingly open his eyes and look up at Marco, trying to blink the sleepy feeling out of his eyes. “There’s that handsome face,” Marco sighed with a smile, and Jean let out a quiet huff.

Jean glanced around the room, the cinnamon smell was taken over by the smell of Marco’s amazing pancakes, the ones Marco only cooked on special occasions, and was Jean’s second favorite thing in the whole world next to his boyfriend. Jean looked up at Marco, his normally neat hair all matted, but his expression was the exact opposite of tired. He must have gotten up a while ago... “You cooked me pancakes?” Jean asked quietly, his voice somewhat hoarse, but not a sleepy hoarse. Jean probably damaged his throat last night by shoving his whole hand down his throat.

“Mhm,” Marco answered with a nod, keeping his voice quiet as well, but still that pleasant Marco-tone. Marco knew not too treat Jean with a sickly sweet kind of voice, that would just piss him off, it would piss anyone off. Marco knew Jean despised being babied, but liked being taken care of. Marco set the plate down on Jean’s lap, and Jean immediately sat up with knowing he was going to be treated with Marco’s amazing pancakes, no matter how sad he was, these were the shit.

Marco made his way to the other side of the bed, sitting next to Jean to wrap his fingers the arm Jean wasn’t using to eat, pausing to think about how Jean’s skin still felt clammy and cold, before intertwining his fingers with his Jean’s.

“Thanks,” Jean murmured, gradually closing his fingers around Marco’s. Marco smiled and nodded.

“No problem,” Marco started to play mindlessly with Jean’s hand, wiggling his boyfriend’s fingers and feeling over his knuckles, not really stopping to think that these were the hands who had gouged out some other mans chest. Maybe it was a bit careless and selfish of Marco, but he couldn’t help it, he loved Jean to death. He couldn’t bare to think about Jean’s victims, because Marco knew Jean would only get better with affection. And it didn’t matter to Marco if Jean never got better. He loved him, cursed or not.

Jean ate slowly, because he was pretty damn tired, and because he was scared, also these pancakes were so good Jean couldn’t just scarf them down like he did with everything else he ate. The two sat, not really exchanging words or glances, and Marco got pretty bored but he wasn’t going to leave Jean’s side. But once Jean did finish, Marco got off the bed and took the plate from Jean, hurrying into the kitchen. “Do you want me to call in sick today?”

Jean hated that question. Marco always asked that when this happened, so he could miss work and take care of him, and it made Jean feel awful. He wasn’t just making Marco feel bad, but he was also costing Marco. “Do whatever.” Jean murmured, shrugging. He really wanted Marco to stay, but Marco really needed to go to work too.

“I’ll stay with you,” Marco said, shrugging a little. Jean nodded, sinking back into the bed with an over-dramatic moan as Marco left to put the plate in the sink. Jean’s attention was brought back towards his boyfriend when he heard Marco call from the kitchen; “Wanna go watch TV and cuddle or something?”

Jean nodded, and pretty much rolled out of bed, nearly flopping on the floor.

This was what every morning consisted of after Jean’s attacks. Just hanging out with Marco, not talking much though, just holding hands and keeping each other close. It was nice, Jean liked it, all besides the fact that he had killed someone and was beyond upset, but, the Marco part was nice. Jean liked the isolated feel Marco’s cozy bungalow brought him, nestled peacefully in the woods on the outskirts of town. He couldn’t help but feel selfish, and weak, he knew he needed Marco more than Marco would ever need him. He didn’t deserve to be comforted either. But he couldn’t help it. Jean was confused, and he wanted to disappear sometimes, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. Grab a knife and slit that one major vein when no one was looking, stop so many deaths from happening, but he couldn’t do it. He was scared.

Jean didn’t want to think about it now. He wanted to cuddle up with Marco and not feel awful about what he had done. No matter how selfish it was, he just wanted to ignore the world around him.

Marco rushed to Jean’s side, even though Jean was okay now, he just felt a little drained from yesterday. “I’m okay,” Jean murmured, yet he still felt Marco’s worried stare and his boyfriend’s warm hand on his bony spine.

“Your legs are shaking,” Marco murmured quietly, Jean nodded in recognition. His attacks drained him, he knew that, that’s why Jean was bonier and thinner than most men. Jean felt self conscious a lot of the time when he compared himself to Marco, Marco was only a few inches taller than him, but the size difference between the two was incredible. Marco told Jean that he liked the fact that he was skinny, but Jean didn’t know if Marco was telling the truth. Jean couldn’t take in nutrients as well as others did, all because of his attacks.

“I know.”

Marco frowned at that. Marco really didn’t frown, either he pouted, or those very rare occasions when Marco actually got mad and his face twisted into the most awful scowl ever. Jean used to joke that angry Marco was even scarier than his attacks, which wasn’t at all true, but it was funny for a month or so. Jean had only seen his boyfriend get really, truly angry once, and it was at some man who was publicly abusing his girlfriend, and Marco protected the shit out of her. At first Marco had just gotten frustrated, but when the man said ‘I'm not letting some gay order me around’, Jean swore to god he saw a vein pop in Marco’s forehead he had gotten so pissed. Jean wished he was brave like Marco was.  

Jean on the other hand got angry constantly. Not ever at Marco, Jean couldn’t pull himself to get angry at Marco, Marco went through too much for him. But Jean’s ‘friends’ on the other hand... Connie Springer, Sasha Braus, they could be assholes sometimes, and Jean could blow under the littlest comment. Marco was normally close by to prevent a fight, or pry Jean off someone, and drag him away. Jean’s anger was more like an angry Chihuahua’s, constant and easy to trigger, but nothing to worry about. His attacks on the other hand were much different, they couldn’t be described as anything close to anger.

Marco had been carefully eyeing Jean’s movement the whole way to the couch, making sure to catch him if he fell, which never happened. It only made sense that Jean was exhausted, if tiny, bony Jean really had the sudden strength to dig out a man's chest and ribs, it was only common sense that Jean would be exhausted afterwards.

Once Jean had finally made it too the couch, he nearly collapsed, rolling onto his back, his head propped up against the arm of the chair, Marco trotting over to the coffee table to get the remote, before carefully crawling on top of Jean, resting his head on his boyfriend’s chest. Normally, Jean would be the one to lay down on top of Marco, and Marco would hold him close. But, Jean was already on the couch, so why not switch things up a little? The TV was switched on, and Jean let out a half relaxed, half sad sigh, his chest heaving while his eyes fluttered shut.

For a brief, few seconds, he was content. The static buzz of the TV booting up filled his ears, and Marco let out a relaxed little sigh, his hands resting on Jean’s collar bone.  

Suddenly, he felt Marco flinch ontop of him. Jean heard the sound of a hysterical woman coming from the TV, with the grainy noise of ‘What kind of monster would do this?’ coming from her.

Marco swore under his breath, and Jean opened his eyes only to see the headline on the news, it was easy to guess what it was. Jean felt a distinct knot in his throat, it was in the middle of the report, and he could clearly hear Marco struggling with the remote, his swearing growing in volume. The family. That man’s wife. Crying. Mourning. Monster. The kill was just last night, so the lady’s physical appearance wasn’t too bad, but everything else was. Before Jean got to study too much, Marco finally got the TV off.

Jean had never seen any of the victims on the news. He had never seen any of the victim’s families on the news. And it felt absolutely awful.

Monster. That’s just what he was. Jean had never harbored so much guilt before, seeing someone say it was so much worse then mentally thinking it, times a million. Jean just froze, he didn’t know what to do. He was unable to make noise, make a move, just feel the sickening guilt that twisted in his stomach. He wanted to throw up again, but he knew Marco wouldn’t let him.

In a silence that must have lasted seconds, Jean had never felt worse.

And Marco broke that silence, pushing himself up on Jean’s body, so that his worried eyes met Jean’s utter shocked ones. Marco’s brows were creased with worry, his mouth closed in a slight frown. “Im sorry,” He squeaked out, “I-I didn’t know it was on the news, I-I just...”

That was enough to end Jean’s shocked state, the silence ending along with his control, and a low whine bubbled out of his throat. Marco’s expression broke, and he let out the quiet whisper of “Jean...” Before hugging the other male close to him as Jean started to sob. He couldn’t help it, he deserved to die, and yet al he could think about was how pathetic he was while in the meantime he had destroyed other people’s lives. And this time, Marco made things worse, his quiet whispers of ‘shh’, and ‘its okay’, made Jean feel progressively worse as he sobbed into his boyfriend’s shoulder, clinging pathetically onto him.

Monster. Jean was a monster.

“Shh, baby, you’re okay,” Is what sent Jean over the edge, and he let out a quiet hiss through his sobs, causing Marco to flinch.

“I’m not okay!” He yelled back, his voice thick and heavy with tears and pathetic sobs. That shut Marco up real good. For a while, at least, he just stroked Jean’s hair, until Marco spoke up quietly, so quiet Jean could hardly hear him through his bawling.

“You wouldn’t hurt a fly, Jean.”

This time, Jean didn’t even hesitate to respond. “But I did! I have! I always have, since I was fucking fifteen, Marco!” He yelled, but, the shout seemed more like a slurred, broken sob in itself. Sounding awfully pathetic for how serious Jean was.

“But that isn’t you,” It was Jean’s turn to shut up, well, at least his words. His pathetic whines and whimpers of sadness were still falling from his lips like a fountain. The next few words came from Marco, since Jean’s howls were reduced to a low sniveling, Marco could talk in his normal, soothing voice, and Jean could actually hear him. “You’re the sweetest guy I know, you’re caring, and honest, and whatever is making you do that isn’t you, got it?”

Jean’s only choice was to nod. He understood Marco, but Marco didn’t understand him. Jean knew it wasn’t him who was doing it, it was something else, something evil, but it was so different. Whatever it was it was using Jean’s body to kill, and that was what mattered. Marco would never understand that.

After a few more minutes of comforting, Marco kissing away Jean’s tears, and stroking Jean’s hair, Jean ceased whimpering and mewling like a baby, just sniffing and whipping his face as if he had really bad allergies.

“Sorry for yelling.” Was the first thing Jean had said after his breakdown, his voice low and gravelly from all the crying.

Marco kissed his forehead, shaking his head no, as if to dismiss the fact that Jean even apologized. Jean let out a heavy, deep sigh in response. The deep sigh that empties out all of the breath he had built out when crying. A kind of sigh that was supposed to make you forget all of your troubles. But sadly, in Jean’s case, that wasn’t happening.

Eventually Marco had fallen asleep on top of Jean, and Jean couldn’t help but feel the awful, twisted guilt that he felt the night before. Marco’s soft, gentle breathing, his warm figure still but yet bursting with life. Marco had fallen asleep on top of him, totally comfortable, investing every single bit of his trust into Jean, Marco really truly believed that Jean would never hurt him. Jean wished it was true, he wished he trusted himself as much as Marco trusted him, but at this point, Jean couldn't even try to stop the attacks. He had given in completely to whatever it was that had possessed him. He had not a simple clue what it was, some kind of curse, some kind of demon, maybe a combination of the two. But whatever it was, was really, truly evil. And Jean was powerless against it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah Jean basically has the outlook on life that Armin has. Eh, I see the two being somewhat similar in weird ways. 
> 
> Just a heads up, the two will probably have sex in the next chapter, so if that's what you clicked on this for, then just stick around until then. I'm actually decent at writing smut. 
> 
> Violence descriptions will probably get worse as this goes on, since I used to be pretty good at writing creepy pasta, I assume the gore level in this should be decent. (No, no fucking hyper realistic blood)  
> (Eren, Armin and Mikasa will be demons. Just a heads up.) 
> 
> Thanks for reading *v*


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